Letters from Strangelove
by CobraShipper
Summary: Recently declassified: letters to The Boss from an obsessed computer engineer at NASA tell a story of an incredible love between two women. Rating is K right now, but it may go up as letters are added.
1. Memorandum from Computer Engineering

Dear The Boss,

I'm sure you don't know me from Eve because I am a lowly computer engineer down here punching numbers. In fact, I feel practically purulent compared to you. There is something I must say, though, so I shall step out of line to deliver my message, if only to be cut down.

I only met you about a month ago. Actually, we did not meet at all. You were at the podium, and I was one of many new scientists here to work on the Mercury Project. You spoke so authoritatively on the possible use of our nuclear weapons technology in future space travel that I was enraptured. Your voice was clear and commanding, like church bells high above me, lofty, sweet, and musical. Then our eyes met, your blue-grey eyes to my shaded ones. How you could see them through my sun-shades, I cannot guess. I felt that we had a momentary connexion. You smiled a little, but you were interrupted by that boorish young man behind me who asked a question out of turn.

We have seen one another or, at least, I have seen you around the facilities. One week ago, I was behind you at the lunch counter, and you asked me how the baked potatoes were. I told you that I didn't eat them as I only ever ate the chips. You laughed when I called them that, and I was too nervous to explain that I knew you called them "fries". Really, I've been in this country long enough to know that you call them "fries", but your presence was enough to make me forget.

Only just yesterday, you held a door for me when I was carrying books of code down to the computer engineering lab. I wanted to ask what you were doing down there or at least to thank you for holding the door, but I merely stammered like the imbecile you must think me.  
This letter has lost its focus, which was to ask you a simple question. Why did you catch my eye at the symposium a month ago? Was it the strangeness of my dark glasses? Was it because I was the only woman in the audience?

Well, whatever the answer is, I am certain it is a waste of your time to answer. If you do, however, please send your answer by memorandum to the Computer Engineering Department.

Yours,

SL


	2. Letter passed to The Boss in a meeting

A note passed to The Boss during a meeting:

I sit here scratching this on the 1st of November 1960. I don't know how long it will be before this reaches you or whether it will at all. I have tried to choose trustworthy messengers, but unlike you, I am no secret agent hero.

Firstly, I must apologise for missing our meeting. Fredric Temms, whom you have likely met and know as the head of my department, asked me personally to stay behind and work just as I was leaving to meet you. I am not usually given to paranoia, but I believe our past letters may have been monitored. That is why I chose such a roundabout way to send this letter. I would have delivered it in person, but I am afraid that, if they are watching me for whatever reason, I am a rather obvious figure.

Thank you for your compliments. I must say that your letter made me blush, which is quite a sight on my pale cheeks!

You prefer to be seen as a normal woman, you say, but there is nothing that can convince me that you are anything but extraordinary. Truly, calling any woman ordinary is like saying, "That is just an ordinary star," when we know that every star is a wonder beyond our imagination. You are anything but ordinary.

You think my glasses hide secrets. That may be, but I doubt my secrets would be interesting to one who has experienced so much, but I hope we get a chance in the future to share a few secrets with one another.

Oh, dear. I may have allowed myself to sound a bit flirtatious just now. Maybe that's what you want. Maybe that's what I want. Maybe...

I wonder what these rumours are about you. I have heard some, but are they the same? When we finally meet privately, I hope to compare rumours.

My perfume? It is nothing but a little rosewater. My mother used to make it when I was a child, and it's the one feminine touch I afford myself even in this male-driven field.

What in heavens could I have lost? Perhaps I am not as detail-oriented as you think I am. Now I will wonder about this until you show it to me. Oh, do hurry!

While we are complimenting one another, I shall tell you that I think of you often. I like to imagine scenes in my head of the glamourous missions you must have gone on. Perhaps my mind is tainted by fiction, though. As you know, I was associated with Dr. Alan Turing while I was in school, and before his unfortunate suicide, he was acquainted with a man named Ian Fleming. If the stories are true, you may have met Fleming during the war. It may seem strange in a woman in such a logical field, but I am a great fan of Fleming's James Bond novels, although I do often find his portrayal of women distasteful.  
While you're no Vesper Lynd, I can't help but see some of that danger in you. I can see that you bring it into your daily life with your clandestine meetings and vague words, and I love it. You intrigue me. You compel me.

Yours,  
SL


End file.
